Lit the Fuse
by making-klainebows
Summary: Kurt is a new student at Dalton Reform Academy. Let the adventures begin.
1. Prologue

"Welcome to Dalton Academy, school for the psychopaths." Kurt mumbled under his breath, lifting the handle of one of his three-part Damask luggage set and watched as his dad and Finn carried the other two.

"Dude, are you sure these are necessary? Don't they give out a uniform or something?" Finn mumbled, his volume fading into almost complete silence at Kurt's glare.

"There's always a time for fashion, Finn. And besides, I have other things in there too. Like my moisturizer and my lotion, and other hygienic necessities." He snapped. 'Not like you would know much about that…'

"Hey, hey, that's enough." Burt called, rolling the largest of the three suitcases towards them.

"Dad, are you sure you can handle that?" Kurt frowned and moved to grab it from him.

"It's just a suitcase, Kurt. I'll be fine."

Kurt watched his dad worriedly as Burt lifted the suitcase out of the car and onto the floor of the parking lot. Burt looked at him again, a smug look on his face. "See? I'm fine, buddy."

Kurt rolled his eyes and looked back up at the towering school. It was old-looking, and had a sense of regency about it, even though the students it housed were the exact opposite. He grumbled to himself as the group made their way to the front gate and into the welcoming hall. Kurt couldn't help but admire the furnishings; it was beautifully antique, with wooden browns and mahoganies standing as the two most prominent colors.

While Burt went to the front office to fill out paperwork (Finn tagged along), Kurt decided to do some exploring. He wandered to the far right side of the main hall that tapered down to a hallway housing a few classrooms. They were empty, so Kurt walked to the far left side of the hall. This hallway was much shorter, and had a door at the very end. Curiosity took hold of him, and before he knew what he was doing, Kurt was pushing the door open and finding himself in the middle of yet another hallway, this one running perpendicular to the door he came out of.

"It's like a maze in here," he muttered to himself. The walls were lined with doors upon windowless doors, and he assumed this was one of the dorms.

Kurt was about to head back into the main office, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, he leaned closer to the door that he could've sworn just opened. After a few seconds of nothing, he shrugged and turned around—

And then all of a sudden his vision was filed with curly black hair and bright hazel eyes and Kurt stumbled back, making a strangled sound.

The boy only looked amused, giving Kurt a very obvious once-over. His eyes lingered, taking their sweet time raking up and down Kurt's body. Kurt blushed under the sudden attention, but caught himself and stood up straight. "Get out of my way, I was trying to get back to the front office."

Mr. Hazel Eyes quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is so!" Kurt snapped and stalked passed him, their shoulders brushing as he passed. Kurt could feel the heated stare of the dark stranger focused on him as he strutted down the hall.

"Do you even have any idea where the front office is?" the boy's smooth voice asked, stopping Kurt in his tracks. Kurt huffed and squeezed his eyes shut, not even bothering answering the question. He heard footsteps coming closer, and when he opened his eyes, Mr. Hazel Eyes was standing in front of him. A bit too close, actually.

"Didn't think so. That's the wrong way, babe." The hazel-eyed stranger smirked. His eyes were trained on Kurt's, oddly intense.

"Babe?" Kurt squeaked, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

"Yes, babe. Unless you'd prefer a different name, like Honey? Sweety-pie? Sugar booger?"

Kurt gaped at him. Was he serious? "First of all, no. Second of all, no. Third, I don't even know your name. So if you'd excuse me." He turned around and headed back to the door he came from.

"Blaine."

Kurt paused with his hand on the doorknob. "…What?"

"My name is Blaine," he called. "Get used to saying it, I'll have you screaming my name by the end of the month."

Kurt flushed deeply. "Goodbye, Blaine."

He pushed through the door and found himself back in the main hall, face to face with his dad, who gave him a strange look.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, just exploring. This is an..._interesting_ school."

Burt gave him a worried look. "Sorry, bud. But you had to come here after…y'know."

Kurt sighed. "Yeah, dad, I know." Burt looked sympathetic.

"It'll all be over soon, kiddo. Then you can come back home." He gestured to the police woman standing in the front office. "She'll show you where your room is, get you all settled in."

Kurt nodded and they said their goodbyes (Finn just clapped him awkwardly on the back), and then they were gone and Kurt was alone in the hall.

It was going to be a long year.


	2. Welcome to Dalton

"Knock, knock," a boy with bleached blonde hair sang before pushing the door open. He plopped down onto Blaine's bed.

"I thought I told you not to touch my bed unless you plan on getting fucked on it, Jeff." The hazel-eyed boy scowled, eyeing the rumpled checkered sheets from where he sat, leaning against the headboard.

"Aw, you're no fun." Jeff pouted but acquiesced, sitting on the plush carpet instead.

"Well if you want fun, why don't you go find Nick? I'm sure he'd be willing to put up with you," Blaine muttered, pushing himself off of the bed.

"No, Nick's off with Wes and David. They told me to get out of their hair." The blonde scowled.

"So, you came to find me… why?"

"Huh…? Oh yeah! Right, well guess what I saw today when I was out near Tiller?" He grinned, looking almost puppy-like, but it faded quickly as Blaine's eyes grew dark and angry.

"What the hell were you doing out in Tiller alone? Dammit Jeff, you remember what happened last time? Do you want to get your ass kicked?" Blaine hissed, clenching his fists tightly as harsh memories began to resurface within him.

_"BLAINE, HELP!"___

_Lying there several feet away was Thad, raising his hand towards him. Pure, undiluted fear swam in his eyes.___

_A switchblade knife raised until it slashed down into his stomach, impaling him.___

_They all watched in fear as the life drained from him, blood gurgling from his mouth.___

_"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, FAGGOTS!"_

"Blaine, it wasn't like-" The taller boy whimpered, releasing Blaine from his reverie.

"Shut up. I don't even want to hear it. Just next time you go anywhere near Tiller, be sure to have back up of some kind." He sighed and rubbed his eyes, resting his head on his hands.

"…I'm-"

"Jeff, I don't want to hear it."

Falling silent, Blaine closed his eyes and recounted their advise.

_If you don't want to feel like this, just remember. Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out…_

"Now, what the fuck did you come barging in here to tell me?" Startled, Jeff bit his lip and stood straight again.

"There's a new kid. Looks like a pretty boy if you ask me."

Blaine's mind immediately began to conjure different images of what the boy could possibly look like. The most prominent details were blonde, stuck up attitude, prim and proper, and definitely a virgin.

He always did like virgins the best.

"A pretty boy?"

"Yeah. Pale, blue eyes, looks like he could burst into flames at any second." Jeff counted off each attribute that he could remember. He didn't see Blaine's of confusion.

"Oh, and his hair looks like it gets hairsprayed at least five times a day," Jeff added.

"Ah… So, if he was near Tiller… does that mean that he'd be making his way down to the main hall?" With a click of his tongue, he began to envision the fastest way down there, deciding to take the staircase directly across from his room.

"Seems like it."

"Sounds fun… You go find Trent. I'm going to go meet our guest." Blaine said and jumped off the bed.

"Alright. Don't kick his ass to much. Portia's still suspicious of you." Jeff warned but winked at him and slid down the hall.

_

It didn't take long to find him and he understood exactly what Jeff meant when he said that the boy could burst into flames at any second.

His light brown hair was obviously well taken care of, if it's style was any indication; he had it coiffed delicately and perfectly. And the jacket that he wore had obviously come from some famous designer. His shoes were spotless and matched his shirt, which was more than could be said about the other boys at the school.

So the kid was spoiled then?

He took his time admiring his form, but dove out of the new boy's line of sight when he began to turn around. He ran quietly, standing directly behind the new boy. After searching the hallway, Blaine saw him shrug and turn around and he found himself face to face with quite a sight.

His chestnut hair looked even more perfect and his eyes… his eyes were the most interesting part about him.

On a first glance, they were merely light blue. But looking closer, Blaine noticed so many different colors that he couldn't even begin to name them all—they were blue, green, grey and every color in between. He stood with a graceful poise and high chin—in fact, the only aspect of him that showed his anxiety about being in a new school, or just Dalton in general, was the furrow in his eyebrows and the bottom lip caught between his teeth.

If anybody asked, he would deny it. But in his mind he had to admit the boy truly was beautiful.

But nervousness and beauty wouldn't get you very far at Dalton. In fact, he screamed virgin—Blaine's favorite.

"Get out of my way, I was trying to get back to the main hall." Blaine was snapped out of his trance by the high voice that drifted out of the new boy's mouth.

Blaine smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun. "Is that so?"

"Yes it is so!" The boy snapped and pushed past him.

"Do you even have any idea where the front office is?" He asked, and chuckled to himself when 'Fresh Meat' stopped in his tracks. Blaine took his time catching up to him and stopped directly in front of him and leaned in to whisper hotly in his ear.

"Didn't think so. That's the wrong way, babe." He leaned back and smirked as the boy flushed once again.

"Babe?" He squeaked.

'How cute. The virgin's nervous.'

"Yes, babe. Unless you'd prefer a different name, like Honey? Sweety-pie? Sugar booger?" he recommended and almost laughed at the dumbstruck look on the boy's face.

"First of all, no. Second of all, no. Third, I don't even know your name. So if you'd excuse me." The boy turned around and headed back towards the door.

"Blaine." He said, stopping him in his tracks once again.

"…What?"

"My name is Blaine." He called after him. "Get used to saying it, I'll have you screaming my name by the end of the month." He winked.

"Goodbye, Blaine." He couldn't help but notice the waver in the boy's voice, and the way he walked a little too fast and a little too shakily on his way to the door.

"Wonder how long it'll take until he sleeps with me. I think I can break my record this time…" he mumbled to himself and trailed back up to his dorm.

_

"You'll be in the Anderson dorms." The police woman told him, not waiting for him to keep up as she walked briskly ahead.

"Anderson?"

"Yes. Breakfast is at 7am sharp, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at 7pm on the dot. If you are even a minute late, you will be locked out of the cafeteria and will not be able to eat until the next dining time. Class periods last an hour each with study periods 2 hours each. You will take 2 electives and one 3-hour discussion with a therapist and your group." She told him and he frowned.

"Your uniform and your class schedule is in your room. I will be your guide tomorrow, but for only that day. Understood?"

Kurt felt a bit overwhelmed, but he nodded anyway. "Understood."

"Good. Now, here is your room. Be up and ready bright and early tomorrow morning," she told him and he nodded. The woman nodded stiffly in return and stalked off towards the hall.

_'Well… welcome to hell, Hummel.'_

Kurt sighed and set down his three piece luggage set. At least the rooms were nice; they, much like the rest of the school, were mostly ambers and wood colors. The floors were carpeted in a plush deep red. There was a twin sized bed sitting stripped of sheets in the corner, and a sad little wooden dresser and mirror stood next to the mini-bathroom. A small reading lamp sat on the desk in the other far corner of the room. Kurt sighed tiredly as he imagined trying to fit all of his clothes into the tiny dresser.

"Well, well… look who we have here."

Kurt froze in his doorway, closing his eyes. The voice—Blaine's voice—hummed softly behind him.

"What do you want, Blaine?" said Kurt through clenched teeth. He didn't want to deal with Blaine right now. All he wanted to do was unpack and go to sleep.

Good thing it was a Friday.

"Just welcoming the new neighbor, is all. And I never did catch your name."

Kurt spun around to find Blaine dressed comfortably in sweats and no shirt.

_No shirt._

Blushing, Kurt tore his eyes away from Blaine's toned chest and met his eyes, only to find that they were sparkling with amusement.

"I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel," He said, a bit breathless.

_There was a shirtless boy in his doorway._

"N-neighbor?" He cursed himself for stuttering.

"Yes, babe. I'm three doors down from you," said Blaine simply, walking past Kurt and flopping down onto his back on Kurt's bed. He scooted forward until his head was hanging off the edge and he was staring at Kurt's upside-down. "Well?"

Kurt stared from the doorway. "Well', what?"

"Well, aren't you gonna unpack?" asked Blaine, gesturing at all the bags, making no move to get up from his position on the bed.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt closed the door and walked into the room.

No use in trying to get him up, he thought dejectedly. It was his first day and he had already managed to attract some creep.

Blaine watched as Kurt began unzipping his suitcases and started carefully hanging his designer clothes in the tiny closet and folding clothes into drawers. His eyes took their time roaming down Kurt's thin, lean form, analyzing every curve of his arms and waist, until finally landing on his ass. His skinny jeans left almost nothing to the imagination. He smirked at the thought of reaching out to curl his fingers around his belt loops and tugging the boy against him, his cock twitching at the image his mind had concocted.

"What are you doing?"

Blaine glanced up to see that the boy in question was staring at him. His arms, firm and muscular, sat low on his hips. One of his sculpted eyebrows raised up in defiance and his mouth formed into a scowl.

And he was _still_ adorable.

"Oh you know, just admiring the view, babe." He winked, the familiar smirk set back in place.

It only widened as Kurt flushed.

"Stop calling me babe." The boy ordered.

"Whatever you say, babe."

Kurt huffed and turned away from him once again, zipping up the smallest suitcase on the ground, giving Blaine another chance to sneak a peek. He stood up slowly, and set it down to the others near his bed and faced it towards the wall.

"What'd you do to get in here anyway?" Kurt questioned.

"It's none of your business." Blaine snapped.

The boy opposite him pursed his lips and he watched in morbid fascination as he began to shake, the anger radiating off him in waves.

"I've had it," he whispered.

"What's that?" The delinquent rose a thick brow in mock interest.

"I have had it!" Kurt shrieked, and stomped towards him, stopping mere centimeters from the edge.

"Had it with what, princess?" Blaine mocked, his smirk growing.

"With this! This school, this dorm, and most of all, I have had it with you! Your stupid, cocky behavior! Just because you're good looking does not give you the right to act like such an… such an asshole! I hate you! And you need to stop staring at me before I report you to the authorities for sexual harassment." The boy screamed, his pale cheeks becoming flooded with color.

"You think I'm good looking?" Blaine commented, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Kurt glanced up and found that Blaine's eyes now had a mischievous spark.

"No, I don—" He was cut short by an arm that snaked around his waist, bringing him closer until he was pressed against Blaine's strong chest.

He was immediately intoxicated by the scent of cigarettes and lime that seemed to be radiating off Blaine in delicious waves.

"W-What are you…?"

And then Blaine's lips were on his, the smell of lime and cigarettes much stronger now that he could actually taste them. A low growl erupted out of his throat and then Kurt froze.

_"GET OUT OF MY FACE."___

_"YOU CAN'T HANDLE JUST HOW EXTRAODINARILY ORDINARY YOU ARE-"___

_And then chubby, dirty hands were reaching for him, grabbing on tightly so he couldn't escape. The panic bubbled within him at the thought of what could be happening to him. Would he be punched? Would he be given a black eye?___

_But all his thoughts came to an end when chapped lips covered his own, biting down on his angrily to get him to open, pushing him further back until his back hit the edge of a row of lockers much farther down from where they originally stood.___

_Tears bubbled up in his eyes at the thought of what was going to happen._

Kurt pushed Blaine away, gripping the sides of his head, eyes blown wide in panic.

"Babe—" The shorter boy reached out, his eyes filled with…was that worry? Maybe even fear?

But as soon as his hand touched Kurt's arm, he slapped it away.

"Don't touch me." Kurt hissed, and ran to the bathroom, his voice wobbling until he slammed the bathroom door behind him.

It wasn't until he heard the front door of his room shut that he let the tears fall in a shaky gasp.

"I'm sorry, dad… I'm sorry… Please forgive me. Please." Kurt wrapped his arms around himself protectively, repeating it like a mantra.

_It happened again._


	3. Day One

The shrill ringing on his nightstand awoke him at 5am.

Yawning, he gathered his several bottles and jars of different moisturizers, body wash, grabbed his special shampoo and conditioner, and other hygienic necessities and headed into the bathroom to shower.

He was finished at promptly 6:30 in the morning, and changed out of his robe into the Dalton Academy Uniform that was provided for him.

"Alright, Hummel, let's go." True to her word, Officer Simmons had shown up at Kurt's room at 7 AM sharp to accompany him to his classes. She seemed surprised to find him ready for the day, as if no one else ever did the same.

"What's your schedule?" She asked gruffly as they walked towards the cafeteria for breakfast.

Kurt fished around for it in his knapsack. Pulling it out, he read: "French, American Lit, History, Group Therapy, lunch, Algebra II, and Chemistry." He made a face and looked at Officer Simmons. "Group therapy? I have to go to that?"

"Yes. You did something to get in here, and they're gonna help make sure you don't do it again."

Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course.

"Oh, and since it's Saturday," she added, "you only have your first three classes, group therapy, and lunch. Saturdays are half days and there are no classes on Sunday." Kurt nodded. Other boys would glare menacingly at him as they passed but would otherwise pay him no mind due to Officer Simmons at his side.

They made it to the cafeteria where Kurt sat alone and ate his breakfast quickly, quietly, and uncomfortably. Several boys were arguing over something at the table a few down from where he sat, taking jabs at each other but no full fights broke out, fortunately for him. Officer Simmon's impatience was practically tangible in the air. Before he knew it, the bell had rung and he was on his way to his first class.

Throughout the day, Kurt noticed that there were several types of people here. There were boys who made themselves small and non-threatening, just trying to get through the day without attracting any attention to themselves like him. On the other wise of the spectrum were the bad asses who acted stupidly tough and made a point to disobey rules as often as possible without getting expelled. The majority of the student body was somewhere in between, Kurt noticed.

Except for Blaine, Jeff, Nick, Wes, and David.

Nick Duval. His forehead was covered by his dark hair and Kurt wasn't sure but based on the glare that he received when he glanced at his blazer, he assumed that the rumors about him having a knife on his persons were true.

Jeff Sterling. Blonde, usually seen with a cigarette in his mouth or hitting on someone. Apparently, he and Nick got thrown in here for stealing someone's car and going for a joy ride.

Wes and David.

Not much was known about them other than they were the closest and whenever something bad went down at Dalton, they were usually behind it and you couldn't find one without the other.

And then there was Blaine, the leader. The top dog or whatever cliché title you wanted to give him.

Rumors followed him endlessly for why he was here ranging from stealing to killing someone and that he was always looking for a quick fuck.

They were at the very top of the pyramid.

They were the ones who ran the school with an iron fist, using intimidation and fear to keep their place at the top. Even the most frightening boys here were scared of them, and he had even seen some with battle scars.

In French, Kurt immersed himself in the class work, anything to keep his mind off of what happened yesterday. Such a huge rush of dejavu hit him when Blaine forced a kiss onto him like that that it made him sick. He hadn't come out of the bathroom for a long time, crying himself dry. He had barely gotten any sleep.

The French work was ridiculously easy, and he zoomed far ahead of everyone else. He laid his head down onto the table for just a few seconds to rest his eyes… it was so comfortable…and he was so…tired…

"_Monsieur Hummel! Attention s'il vous plait!"_

His head shot up from the table and he answered automatically.

"_Desole, Madame Martin. Je me sens fatigue, il ne se reproduira pas." _

Her lips formed a tight line and she nodded. "_J'espere que non, Monsieur Hummel._" Then she turned and fired a question at a student who was doodling in his margins and clearly not paying attention. Kurt slumped in his seat and stared at the clock until the bell rang.

He followed Officer Simmons to American Lit on the second floor, which was taught by a horribly dull Mr. Wern. There were at least five other boys who were sound asleep, but Mr. Wern just kept on lecturing. It was terribly uneventful, and History was even more uninteresting.

Group therapy was next. Kurt couldn't decide if he was excited or nervous or dreadful- he didn't feel much of anything, he was too tired. He walked into the classroom to find about 15 chairs formed into a circle in the center. Most of the students were already there, waiting in stony silence for the teacher.

Kurt tentatively took a seat next to a chubby-looking boy with styled black hair. He had kind eyes and smiled when Kurt took the seat next to him.

"Hi, you must be the new kid," he smiled. "I'm Trent." He stuck his hand out and Kurt took it.

"I'm Kurt," he smiled back. Trent seemed like a genuinely nice person but appearances could be deceiving so he kept his guard up.

"So, what exactly do we do in here?"

Trent shrugged. "Oh, mostly just talk about our behavior, how we can change it, become better people… you know, that normal bullshit they try to pull. Dr. Eston is an alright therapist. I think if you're new, he wants you to say what you did to get in here."

At Kurt's panicked face, Trent elaborated. "I mean, you don't have to. You don't get kicked out of here or arrested if you don't. It's just advised. Get it off your chest, y'know?" Kurt felt himself relaxing. He guessed it made sense. After a few moments of silence, Kurt got the courage to ask Trent. "What did you do to get in here?"

Trent was just barely opening his mouth to reply when Dr. Eston walked in holding a clipboard in one hand and a decorated coffee mug in the other. "Hey guys, ready to get started?" Noticing Kurt, he paused. "Oh, you must be Kurt Hummel," he said, checking his clipboard as he took a seat in the circle. "Welcome to group therapy! I promise it isn't that bad, you say what you want to stay in here. No restrictions. You're here to relax with your classmates, and just talk if you want to. It's a group thing, right guys?" Trent along with two other boys grumbled in reply while the others merely folded their arms over another in silent protest.

"So, let's get started." Dr. Eston took a sip of his coffee. "Greg," he said, turning to his left. "Let's start with you."

And they went around the circle.

Most of the boys didn't say much but grunt or throw a few curse words around.

Only Greg, a small, timid looking boy who kept fidgeting had spoken so far, muttering something about money and nightmares but it was barely audible. Dr. Eston encouraged him but did not seem to deter from his task no matter how many of the boys ignored him.

Then it was Trent's turn.

He talked about his plans to send a gift to his mom. Kurt noticed how his eyes lit up when he talked about her. It was sweet and it brought him memories of his own mother when he was young.

Then it was Kurt's turn.

"So, how's your day been so far, Kurt?" Dr. Eston asked, his pen clicking against the clipboard as he shifted over. everyone was looking at him and he didn't know what to do.

_I'm miserable here. I hate it. I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? _

He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice wouldn't cooperate.

"Kurt?" Dr. Eston tried again, but nothing would come out.

The teacher gave him a look. "Are you sure you don't wanna say anything?"

Kurt lowered his head in reply, feeling the curious stares and disgusted glares on his back like red-hot lasers.

"Alright then, that's fine. Maybe next time, huh?" Kurt nodded with a weak smile. He felt Trent looking at him questioningly, but didn't turn around. The class ended soon after.

"Hey man, I'll see you later!" Blaine waved at Wes as he walked to the cafeteria. It was lunchtime and he was too hungry to be locked out. He walked down the familiar hallway, glaring at a couple guys who gave him dirty looks as he passed and made it as far as the hallway outside the cafeteria before he froze.

Because sitting right there, talking animatedly to Trent, was Kurt.

Memories from yesterday's kiss started rushing into his head before he could stop them. The feel of Kurt's arousal after just one measly kiss so blatantly obvious against him. He took a few deep calming breaths as he remembered yesterday how one second they were kissing and he was smirking at the thought of another easy fuck, and then the next, Hummel was pushing him away and running away, barely holding back tears

Normally, when Blaine kissed or fucked guys, it was causal and meant nothing. It was just fun. But this time… this time something felt different. It was as if all his senses had become heightened and everything made sense but at the same time nothing made sense at all. This was something that made his stomach flutter and he felt breathless and nervous and above all else, he felt scared.

Boys like him weren't meant to feel like this. _He_ couldn't feel like this because as soon as he let someone in they would have the complete and utter power to destroy him from the inside out.

And Blaine had everything. He couldn't afford to lose everything that he had worked towards.

Blaine took a deep breath, straightened his back and plastered a smirk onto his face and strode into the lunchroom.

He found Kurt's table easily and both Trent and Kurt stopped their conversation as he sat down. They were so alike, now that Blaine thought about it.

He smirked at Kurt's shocked face. "Why are you here?" He asked in a high pitched voice.

"Nice to see you too, babe."

"I told you, don't call me tha—"

"I can call you whatever I want, _babe_." Trent was watching with an expression caught between amusement and anxiety.

"No you can't, I won't let you! You are an arrogant, stuck up idiot and you need to go." Kurt was getting madder and madder, if his red face was any indication. Blaine only smiled wider.

"Well, babe, after what happened last night, I think I have the right to call you whatever I wa—"

_**SMACK.**_

Trent's eyes widened almost comically as Kurt stood frozen in shock, unable to believe what he just did. His hand was red from the strong impact with Blaine's face. The entire cafeteria became silent, eyes trained on the unraveling scene.

Blaine froze with his head turned to the left. After a few tension-filled heartbeats, he turned forward and flexed his jaw. He touched the reddening mark on his cheek curiously as if he'd never felt anything like it before. The entire cafeteria was waiting for the explosion that was bound to happen, and they weren't disappointed as everything seemed to happen at once. Blaine shot up and grabbed Kurt's wrists, and shoved the wriggling boy against the table, spilling food and trays onto the floor.

Everyone burst back into sound and a crowd began forming around the two. Trent was watching nervously from the side and didn't join in when the crowd of boys began to shout different things at the two.

"Punch his fucking face in, Anderson!"

"Get him, new kid!"

"Fucking fight already! This isn't a fucking stare off!"

"_What is going on here?"_

Despite Officer Simmons arrival, nobody moved. Nobody cared. They continued to shout jeers and encouragement at the two boys in the middle. She shoved her way through the crowd and pushed Kurt and Blaine apart.

"Stop it, _stop_!" she yelled. She grabbed at the walkie talkie on her shoulder and called for backup, and soon the cafeteria was flooded with uniformed men and women who were working on subduing the rowdy crowd.

"You two are coming with me to the warden," she snarled at them. Blaine scowled but remained silent. Kurt, on the other hand, began to splutter.

"B-But you can't! He started it!"

"I don't care who started it, Hummel."

Kurt tried to argue but he knew it was pointless. His arm hurt from the tight grip Officer Simmons had on it and his blood was running cold from dread- his dad would be so disappointed. It wasn't even the anger or the lecture he would get that he was afraid of-it was seeing the pure disappointment in his father's eyes that made him feel numb with every bad feeling he could think of.

By the time they reached the warden's office, Kurt was nearly shaking. He turned to look at Blaine, who didn't look irritated or scared. He merely looked bored.

Officer Simmons sat them down in two hard wooden chairs outside the office. Kurt felt like he was on a death sentence and soon, he began playing with his hands and tapping his feet.

After a few minutes, Blaine turned and shot Kurt an exasperated look. "I know you're nervous sweetheart, but could you stop fucking shaking? It's getting on my last fucking nerve."

"_You're_ getting on my last nerve." Kurt bit the words out with as much venom as he could muster. He didn't have the patience to come up with a better comeback. It was all Blaine's fault, anyway. If he wasn't such a stupid cocky jerk and if he hadn't kissed him yesterday then maybe they wouldn't be in this mess—

"Alright guys, come on in."

The warden's deep voice sailed out from his office. Kurt stood up on shaky legs and watched as Blaine sauntered into the room almost carelessly. He rolled his eyes and followed after him.

The room was large and, like the rest of the school, dominated by wooden furnishings. It was filled with books and for some reason Kurt had the strong sense that he had to be quiet almost as if he were in a library. The room was in complete order; everything had a place and everything was in its place. And Warden Wilston was sitting in his place behind his desk, hands folded primly. He was a large man, but tidily so. Everything about him was tidy and ordered, right down to his trimmed mustache and fitted suit. He spoke and his voice was smooth and quiet, but forceful. Kurt could see why he would be in a position of power.

"Take a seat, boys."

Kurt and Blaine obliged. The seats were plush and squishy but they didn't calm Kurt, not one bit.

"What's gonna happen to us?" Kurt blurted before he could stop himself.

Mr. Wilston chuckled humorlessly before replying. "Nothing, really. No punches were thrown, correct?" He looked from between Blaine and Kurt.

Kurt's heart immediately started racing. Blaine had the power now to get him suspended- he could tell the warden about the slap across the face, he could exaggerate it and claim to be injured. He could get Kurt in a load of trouble.

"Or were there?" Wilston's eyes landed on Blaine suspiciously.

But instead, Blaine shook his head. "No… not unless you count a measly slap as a punch." He smirked.

Both Kurt and the warden gaped at Blaine. Meanwhile, Blaine was just sitting there, the smirk on his face growing quickly.

"Blaine, that's the first time I've ever heard a confession out of you. Ever since the narcotics incident and the issue with Jeremy, you've never straight admitted something like that." The warden smiled.

"Good job, Blaine."

Kurt noticed a few things at once.

First, that Blaine had grown considerably pale at the mention of Jeremy. The second was that Blaine's jaw clenched and his eyes closed when Mr. Wilston mentioned the narcotics.

"It was more than just an issue, Mr. Wilston. You know that." Blaine growled. He probably hit a sore spot.

"Yes, Blaine, but that's all in the past now. Let's move on shall we?" Blaine growled and to be honest, Kurt wouldn't have been surprised if he jumped across the desk and started strangling the warden based on his look.

Kurt felt curiosity bubble up inside him. Who was Jeremy? And what did narcotics have to do with Blaine? He knew this was a reform school but the crimes people did to get in here still shocked Kurt. He found himself intrigued by Blaine and he wanted to know more.

But Blaine was Blaine, and it wasn't like he could just walk up to him and ask.

Mr. Wilston took Blaine's silence as a sign to continue. "Kurt, since you're new here and this is your first day, I'll let you off with a warning." Kurt let out a sigh of relief.

"And no weekend privileges for two weeks. For both of you." Wilston said.

"What? But I—" Kurt protested.

"It's a done deal. Just because it's a warning does not mean that you'll be getting off easily. Don't think it'll always be like this either. There are boys here who can do much, much worse than just a slap across the face." He glanced pointedly at Blaine, who stared murderously at the carpet.

"So Kurt, I'm urging you to control yourself. For your own sake and for the sake of others."

"And Blaine, you'll be doing community service for Mrs. Bellman on Monday for one hour. I'm sick of having to deal with you. You get one more chance Blaine. One." The warden narrowed his eyes at Blaine in a warning, but the boy just shrugged him off.

"Yes, Mr. Wilston."

The warden looked between the two boys before sitting up straight. "Alright you two, back to your dorms. Remember Blaine. Monday, one hour after class with Mrs. Bellman."

Kurt nodded and he and Blaine walked out of the office and into the still-empty hallway. "Well at least we didn't get in t—"

Kurt would've screamed if it hadn't been for Blaine's hand covering his mouth. Before he knew what was happening, Blaine had him pressed against a wall and his hot breath was hitting Kurt's face and he looked mad and a bit unhinged.

"Now you listen and you listen good. I don't know where all that bravado came from earlier Hummel, and I don't even care. I can _ruin_ you, do you understand?"

"Mmph—!"

"Just know this, Hummel. No one—and I mean _no one_—hits me and gets away with it. Especially not pretty boys like you who probably just stole a chocolate bar and got thrown into a big bad scary reform sch—"

Kurt pushed Blaine off of him as hard as he could and into the opposite wall. "Don't you_ dare _assume you know my past, or what I did. You don't know anything." Kurt snarled at Blaine, who stared back at him in shock. Kurt continued. "And I'm not gonna let you push me around because I have had enough of that bullshit and I didn't come here just to meet another stuck-up asshole who thinks they're just so fucking cool that they can treat everyone else like… like that!"

Kurt was angry. This was not going to happen again, not to him. He wouldn't let it happen. All the anger and frustration he had felt since being transferred to Dalton was let out now, and Kurt didn't try to stop it. It felt so good to lash out.

"So just leave me alone, Anderson."

And Kurt spun on one heel, walked down the hallway to his room, and didn't look back.


	4. Friend or Foe

Chapter 4: Friend or Foe

_**"Just know this, Hummel. No one—and I mean no one—hits me and gets away with it."**_

The threat had been repeating in Kurt's head all night and even a warm bath couldn't help him relax. Sleep consisted of nervously thinking of ways Blaine would get back at him, and before he knew it, the alarm clock on his nightstand was shrieking the start of a new day. He shut it off with a quick slam and lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling before dragging himself out of bed.

Sighing, he retreated to the bathroom and started his daily moisturizing routine, applying a bit more than normal to hide the light purple bags under his eyes and changed from his silk pajamas into his Dalton uniform.

At promptly 6:30, he was headed out the door and down the hall. It was much quieter than it had been the day before, probably because of most of the boys were still sleeping. This made Kurt stop suddenly.

"Today's Sunday…" he muttered to himself. "There are no classes, so what do we do?"

He didn't have any class work since it was all rather simple—much simpler than what he had been given at McKinley—and he had finished it in class. His weekend privileges were revoked so he couldn't visit his family and his cell phone had been taken since he had first arrived here. Using the computer was also out since the only computer that was usable was the one in the library which was being watched over by Mrs. Bowen, the cranky old librarian. She smelled like carrot juice and liked to pick on the boys. So this really only left one option for him.

He would just spend his day in the library, taking breaks for meals and bathroom breaks, and read.

The fact that Dalton was a reform school didn't matter- there had to be a book that would captivate him. But first, he needed breakfast. His stomach was growling fiercely as he tried to remember where the cafeteria was.

He was halfway to the dining hall when he heard the click of heels against tile behind him.

Kurt turned to see who the footsteps belonged to but instead found nobody in sight. In fact, the footsteps seemed to stop as soon as he did. He frowned and did a quick once over of the area, but he turned back around when he saw nothing and continued down the hall.

Whomever the footsteps had belonged to, they weren't following him anymore. 

The same thing had been happening to him all day.

It started at breakfast.

Kurt was the first one there, which wasn't a surprise. He sat down at the closest table to the back and waited for the clock to hit 7 so he could eat and head to the library.

At 6:58, more boys started piling in and while most gave him dirty looks, there was something off about the way they looked at him and it was something that Kurt wasn't used to seeing.

A flicker of fear.

At 6:59, Trent walked in and that's when it became strange. Yesterday, Trent had been the closest that he was ever going to get to a friend. They sat together at lunch and talked and Trent even offered to show him a few tricks to survive around Dalton, a sort of guidebook.

But today, as soon as Trent had seen him, the other boy had given him a strained smile and then sat near the back with two other boys who kept glancing at him and whispering.

And so, Kurt grabbed his breakfast, which consisted of an apple, some sort of porridge, and a slice of stale bread and ate alone.

After breakfast, he strode out of the dining hall and made his way to the library. On the way, he received 12 glares, 5 smirks, and another lost friendship from Greg, the skittish student from his group therapy session who made it his apparent mission to completely avoid him.

As he stepped inside, he gave it a once-over. The library was rather large for a school. Much larger than the one at McKinley. It was separated into 12 rows vertically and organized into genres and alphabetized by authors. In the center of the room was Mrs. Bowen's desk where she sat writing something down on a small yellow post-it note.

"Do you need something?" She questioned, focusing her crooked gaze on him, eyeing him up and down with a scowl.

"No, I'm just looking." He smiled but her scowl deepened.

"If I see any gum on any of these books, you'll be punished severely." She threatened but turned away.

Kurt glanced at the tall bookshelves and their genres as he walked past them.

Fiction, Non-Fiction, Biographies, Textbooks, Cookbooks, Myths, and some others. Eventually, he stumbled upon a book that was rather familiar to him.

_Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_

With a small shrug, he took the paperback novel and sat down at one of the very small and very empty tables to read.

_A mile above Oz, the Witch balanced on the wind's forward edge, as if she were a green fleck of the land itself, flung up and sent wheeling away by the turbulent air…_

He sat there for hours becoming absorbed in the book that he didn't notice when the clock that hung high on the wall struck 11. He hadn't even registered that he might be hungry until about 12 when he had finished and Mrs. Bowen started yelling at him to get out of her library because she was closing up for the rest of the day.

The halls were filled with other boys talking quietly to one another, although the volume of their voices got quieter as he walked past them. He steeled himself and ignored them as he walked to the doors of the dining room.

Officer Simmons stood blocking the doorway, her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Next to her stood another officer who looked rather bored. They glanced at him as he walked towards them but held their arms out as he tried to get inside.

"Can I-?"

"It's 12:05." Officer Simmons interrupted.

"…What?"

"It's 12:05," She repeated.

"So?"

"So, lunch is served at noon." She glared at Kurt unsympathetically.

"But, I—" He tried.

"You missed your chance. Be sure to come at 7 for dinner," she told him briskly.

"…Fine." Kurt scowled but turned on his heel and headed back down the hall, trying to ignore his growling stomach.

During his time at Dalton, he had become familiar with a few key items: a painting of a man with a small child standing next to him resided on the far left wall, a vase filled with pink flowers that sat on a table to the right of the staircase, and a rather nice chair which was placed near the dining hall—these were his guides, his way back to his room.

Unfortunately, the vase of pink flowers was replaced by a vase filled with yellow flowers and Kurt had gotten lost this time around. He took wrong turn after wrong turn, becoming more and more panicked as his surroundings became more alien.

He had somehow managed to end up in an almost abandoned room filled to the brim with racks of stacked chairs. Dust, cobwebs, and chipped gray paint decorated the walls along with a broken piece of chalk on the floor near the blackboard.

Kurt was about to turn back and attempt to retrace his steps when he saw a figure through the window. A pudgy boy with very thick and very familiar dark hair.

Trent.

That wasn't the only one he saw either.

Two boys followed after him, keeping at least ten feet of distance between them at all times so as not to seem suspicious.

One of them, a burly boy with spiky brown hair, kept sneaking glances at Trent who still remained oblivious, his hands tucked firmly in his pockets. The second boy, a very tall and very lean boy whose sandy-blonde hair was messily styled, was much stranger. His left hand was gripping tightly onto something in his pocket while his right was clenched in a firm fist at his side.

Kurt narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer to the window in order to get a better view.

Trent stopped and so did the other two. It was only when Trent glanced behind him did they move.

The burly boy ran straight for Trent and tackled him into the ground. Trent squirmed helplessly beneath him. He threw a few punches but Trent was no match with the strong hold that he had on him.

Kurt didn't have any idea where he was. He wasn't that familiar with Dalton but he couldn't just sit here. He needed to go for help.

A tiny glint from the sun attracted Kurt's attention back to the fight and over to where the other boy stood, as the blonde showed Trent the switchblade knife he held.

Trent's eyes widened in fear as the blonde waved it in front of him and then opened his mouth, a sly smirk growing on his face.

Kurt watched as the fallen boy's eyes narrowed in rage and he kicked and punched and squirmed much harder than before. The blonde pocketed the knife once more and mentioned something to his companion. He nodded and turned away and disappeared out of Kurt's sight.

That left just Trent and his assailant.

Kurt ran out of the room, fueled by Trent's cries of pain as the other boy punched him brutally again and again.

He turned down several corners and doorways as the shouts got louder until he reached a doorway that lead outside and into the almost abandoned pathway.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Trent shouted before the boy on top of him landed another punch to his jaw, issuing a sickening crack through the courtyard.

Kurt didn't hesitate. All he knew was that he had to help Trent in anyway that he could.  
>He ran towards them, the blood dribbling out of Trent's mouth becoming more apparent as he drew closer.<p>

"Hey!" He shouted.

The distraction was more than enough. As the boy turned his head to glance at him, Trent squirmed underneath him and managed to land a solid punch to his nose, making the boy fall backwards and off of him.  
>Kurt ran towards Trent and grabbed his left arm as he helped him up.<p>

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, giving him a once over before turning to glance at the other boy.

The calm and happy boy from before was long gone. In his place stood a nervous and angry one, glaring heavily at the one who tried to attack him.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Trent murmured, wiping the blood off of his chin. "Oh god, my jaw hurts…"

Kurt bit his lip as he watched Trent massage his lower jaw. He turned them both away to lead them back inside when quickly approaching footsteps made them both freeze.

"What do you think you're doing there, bud?"

"I think he's trying to do a sneak attack there, Nick."

There was a rustle and a heavy grunt, and Kurt and Trent both glanced behind them.

A blonde boy was sitting on Trent's attacker looking rather bored. Another was poking said brunette with a stick, chuckling when the boy gave out a snarl in response.

"Nick…Jeff…What the hell are you two doing here?" Trent mumbled, glancing between both of them.

"We heard a scuffle so we came to see what's up. After all, scuffles are no fun without the power duo, right Nick?" Jeff grinned, and glanced at his partner in crime. They fist bumped.

"That's correct. What happened here anyway?" Nick's eyes flickered briefly to the blood on Trent's blazer.

"He snuck up on me. Kurt here helped me out." Trent smiled at the shaken boy beside him.

Nick's gaze landed on Kurt.

Kurt didn't know how he looked. He was shaken, sure, but would that make him look weak? He didn't want to give the top guys here a reason to pick on him since all he really wanted to do was survive here and go back to McKinley.

"Alrighty then." Jeff grinned, ignoring the groan that fell out of the fallen boy's mouth. He looked down at the guy he was sitting on and smirked.

"Kirk, you should head back to your dorm," Nick said.

"It's Kurt," he scowled.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Just head back to your dorm."

"But how do I—"

"Go back inside through that door," He gestured to the door that Kurt ran out of originally. "From there, take a sharp right, go down the hall until you reach a painting of an ugly dog that looks like a rat. From there, go to the left and the stairway will be right there. I think you'll be able to find it from there." Nick waved him off.

"And what about Tr—?"

"We've got him. Don't even worry about it. Just go," Jeff grinned, and wrapped his arm around Trent's waist from his seat on the other boy.

Kurt nodded and with one last glance at the situation, he disappeared inside.

"Now then…" Nick mumbled thoughtfully, turning back to the boy who'd attacked Trent.

"What are we gonna do with you?" He reached into his blazer pocket and felt the blade in his palm and smiled.

Blaine had been in his room for hours.

There was something off about Hummel. He was innocent, way too innocent to be considered a delinquent, worthy of attendance at Dalton Reform. Yes, he had spunk and and inkling of bravery, but he was mostly just a simple guy.

So what the hell did he do to get in here?

Theft? Joyride? Drugs? He counted off each one on his fingers as he went but still couldn't come to any conclusion that made much sense. Kurt just didn't seem…bad.

_**"Don't you dare assume that you know my past, or what I did. You don't know anything."**_

"Knock, knock." Jeff sang, interrupting his thoughts. He stumbled through the door with Nick right behind him.

"What the hell do you two want?" Blaine asked tiredly.

"Can't two friends just come and visit?" asked Jeff in a falsely hopeful tone.

"No."

"You're so mean, Blaine." Jeff pouted.

"We've got news, Blaine." Nick interrupted and glanced pointedly at Jeff.

"News?"

"It's about Tiller. They're going after all of the Warblers. They nearly got Trent today. They, uh…they threatened to do him the same way they got Thad." Nick said carefully. He was aware of Blaine's sensitivity to this.

Blaine clenched his fists as the memories started to resurface.

_'Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out… breathe in…'_

_**"Help me, Blaine… please…"**_

_'Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out… breathe in…'_

_**"You'll be next. You'll all be done for, just like that dumb faggot, Thad."**_

_'Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out.'_

"Blaine?" Jeff called again and shook Blaine out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Did you hear us?" Nick asked.

"Hear what?"

"That if it wasn't for your new boy toy, Trent might've gotten far worse than just a bruised jaw," Jeff repeated.

"Hummel?" he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Where's Trent now?"

"In the infirmary. He said he just fell down the stairs and hit his jaw on the way down but the old bat didn't look like she was buying it. But, we know what really happened. We let Shaun off to relay a message to the others but I doubt it'll do much," Nick answered. Blaine nodded and pushed himself off of his bed and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Heading out to see the hero." He emphasized 'hero' with a smirk and air quotes before leaving the room with the slam of his door.

There was a small silence, and then, "Wanna take bets on how long it'll take till they fuck again?" Jeff asked, grinning.

"They fucked already?" Nick asked with a low whistle. That was a record, even for Blaine.

"Of course they did, you moron. Didn't you see what happened at the Cafeteria?"

"Nope. Just heard it from Wes and David."

"Oh, well they fucked." Jeff chirped.

"Hm…It'll probably happen within the first ten minutes." Nick held out his hand.

"I'll say the first five." The blonde held out his.

"Deal." And they shook on it.


End file.
